Moments in Love: Pretty Night Things
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: My 100th Mentalist fic! Lingerie can be so much more than it seems. Lisbon is discovering a new side to her nature while she and Jane learn what being a romantic couple means for them. One-shot, PWP. Alternating POV. Warning! Adult sexual situations. If you don't like that stuff then don't read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


I'm not sure when I changed. If I'm being honest and think back to when it first started, I stop at Marcus Pike. Dating, being in a relationship that was mutually set for long-term . . . being courted, for god's sake, made me look at dresses and overtly feminine things in a new light. Wearing them made me feel good, even shopping for them, trying them on. My tastes are still simple and practical, but it's satisfying to put on something that makes me look that good . . . alluring . . . and accent it with a bit of jewelry or make my hair softer around my face in a new style. I like it very much. It makes me feel . . . womanly . . . irresistible. Not just sexy to draw an easy fuck. I'm not afraid to be deeper than that anymore. It may be the most exciting adventure of my life.

And, truthfully, I liked how it made Patrick Jane look at me. I know his mouth watered, even when he filled it with ice to shun me, shunt me to someone else that he, the pompous jackass, thought would make me happy. Suddenly . . . no, simultaneously, he was buying me sexy, revealing dresses to wear on his stings and cons. All showcasing my breasts. In fact, I think he created these plots just so he could dress me and look at me. He'd probably admit it now, if I asked him.

Alone with my fingers it brought ecstasy, imagining that I bared them for him, realizing how much he loved my breasts, his hands on them, long graceful fingers doing things, preparing them for his lips and tongue. Preparing me for . . . it makes me wet, now. The incredible erotic images grew from there. Things I wanted from Patrick, things I wanted to do to him. But he wouldn't claim me. My heart had broken by the time he did. The formula I was following said it was too late. That was illusion. The best thing I ever did was to pick up the pieces and bring them to him. He cherished them and healed me. I'll never love anyone like I love him.

Marcus didn't reap the benefit of my evolution into lingerie. I've always bought sexy bras and panties. But night things . . . oversized team jerseys and tee shirts more than met my needs for comfort. For warmth, I could always throw on some pajama pants. A negligee would add nothing to my autoerotic activities that only needed my panties down or off. And getting me out of a sexy dress seemed enough for Marcus. Sexy night things belong only to Patrick and me. That sweet power adds a vibrant new constant to my libido.

Lust for Patrick sent me foraging in lingerie shops. Not because he needed it or asked for it. Or even hinted by buying it for me. Walking by a shop made me want to give us something new to play with. The shock of seeing, in just the snapshot of my reflection, the depth of my sexuality made my own mouth water. The bloom in my skin covered a sweet ripening of curve and valley. The pleasure of the sight sank into my core and became a part of my blood. I couldn't wait to share it.

I wore white for my first time. There was no lace. Just simple flowing lines from reams of chiffon. There were two layers of it, flowing from a rounded neckline and sleeves that were simple banded fluffy caps at the top of my arms. It stopped at mid-calf and flowed around me like wisps of cloud, indefinite and shifting shades of my flesh and form the air that moved under it.

Patrick was finishing up in the kitchen after dinner as I walked by. I heard something clatter in the sink and then he was behind me, nuzzling my hair aside, kissing my neck.

_I'm in the kitchen when Teresa walks past me into the darkened living room, dressed in something sheer, white and flowing._

_Possibilities of pleasure and gratification sound the alarm to abandon all activity not germane to the new opportunity. I lose all focus on what I'm doing and rush to her, something clattering in the sink behind me. My hands are full of the soft, bunched chiffon of her sleeves. I can't let go of it, so I push her hair aside with my nose to kiss her neck, delicately perfumed with something new. Arousal is a warm wash, flowing blissfully from its root throughout my body. _

_I doubt she's ever worn such pretty night things as a regular part of her life. But she does tonight, a first for us. I had only ever seen her in jerseys and tee shirts or, my favorite, naked. I'd take her in holey cottons. What matters to me is removing whatever she has on so we can make love. Right now our appetites for each other are insatiable and I don't see it ending soon._

_But I have to admit, color and texture, draping and glimpses of her body moving under sheer revealing fabric creates immense excitement in me. I turn her to see the rest. The swell of her breasts. The suggestive flare of her hips. Long waves of dark hair against white chiffon bring out her cherry lips and the freckles under her blush. Her deep emerald eyes are round and shining when they look right into me. She looks innocent as a bride on her wedding night. I hope she will be my bride soon. I want to lift the hem of her gown and push my pants down just enough to have her against the nearest wall. Or maybe on the kitchen counter._

In general, I think it's not the first nature of most men to be gentle during sex. Love makes them gentle. Stripped of civilization and love it is a rough, demanding one-sided rutting for them, the release of a partner incidental. I crave a beast who loves me. And Patrick calls the same from me, draws it out, sometimes it's clear he demands it. None of us has lost the caveman. Caveman and civilized, masculine or feminine, each deserve notice, appreciation and the sweet reward of release. To have both in one person is beyond blessing.

I like the beast in men as well as I like the civilized stream that makes a thoughtful, generous, thorough lover. A man who will delay and sweeten his gratification to bring a woman to such a pitch that she comes for him, over and over, sometimes before he even enters her, will make her crave him. It is in his best interest to focus on her. Her pleasure will become his, increase it unimaginably. And when he is inside her, he will feel what it does there, drawing him into the heat, clutching him within her body, demanding everything in him. She will always want him again.

_Teresa is a smart woman. Increase in my eagerness and excitement deepens her pleasure. Watching my attention shift helplessly fills her with a sense of rich sexual power. And that deepens my pleasure. I adore her._

_It's not a signal of anything except she wants me. It doesn't mean she wants gentle seduction. Or that she wants it rough and determined. Or that she wants something out of our huge menu of usual. All of that will flow from whatever we create in each other's arms._

_Her gown seems to be a statement about herself. It's the most beautiful, wondrous statement she could make for this moment. I'm ecstatic to make it part of my reality._

Sometimes Patrick looks at me so deeply, for so long without politely looking away, that he makes me feel the reality of my own existence. Because he sees me, holds me in his existence, a gentle invasion I allow only to him. He smiles with such easy love, the moments seem suspended, timeless. I never feel so alive as when he looks at me and truly sees me.

No one has done that since my mother died. It fills me with so much love and fascination, I long to return the same to him. So, silent, we smile and we even blink, and our expressions change with our thoughts and feelings, but we don't stop looking. And then we always kiss and hold each other tight. I think I make him know he's alive, too. Once, it dawned on me to tell him but I don't think there's a way to talk about it without destroying it. It must, simply, be.

He takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom, the shades open to the ambient light of evening.

I watch him touch my gown, long fingers stretching to bunch it into his large hands. He wanders up the sensuous material, across my hips, my belly, ribs and to the bottom of a breast. His movements captivate me, exploring what he already knows in its new covering.

_"Put your hands on my boobs, Patrick."_

_Her words, a raw command joined with my first name, curl my spine and take hold of my thickening cock. I have to close my eyes as bliss takes me for a moment, releasing a lover's sigh from my lips._

His fingers fan over my hard nipples, forcing a gasp from my throat. My hips shift in reflex and he takes hold to still and then crush them against the heavy rod under his clothes. I want to hunch against him like a wildcat. But his wide graceful hands move on me, his long straight fingers travel the chiffon on the route he chooses, to cup my breasts, seating the nipple in the middle of his palm, his fingers caging them completely to my chest.

I'm light-headed. I'm panting so fast, so shallow, I think I'm hyperventilating. Patrick's mouth closes over mine, pressing hard, restricting my oxygen intake enough to clear my head. His wide skillful tongue diverts my attention and shifts my focus to the deep kiss. He smiles onto my mouth, gloating that he's made me swoon. I don't mind his pride one bit. Soon he'll be inside me and I will gladly add to that pride by letting him make me come a zillion times.

He breaks the kiss. I think he wants to gauge my breath. But then he looks right into me with dark eyes, rimmed in a stormy blue. "You look beautiful in this gown."

Patrick walks into my soul when I return his deep gaze. My body becomes a flare, his, the pyre. Together we will consume one another tonight. "I feel beautiful." The glow of the flame is on us. "And I love that you say so."

Gossamer rustles almost inaudibly as he rotates his hand and finally grips my breasts lightly, using the fabric to caress them. Then he squeezes them gently from his hand, the chiffon his lubricant, holds them again to squeeze them out of his hands over and over, kissing my neck and throat, along my collarbone, until my breath is a sob of want. I am dripping wet, swollen and my core is calling for him as I rub my excited flesh hard against him in a frenzy of heat. He lowers his body so that I can rub his cock through his clothing, each of us sighing in the relief the pressure brings. He watches my eyes as I satisfy myself, as he handles me. I blush hard and moan low before he releases me.

I know what I want. "Take them off! Take off your clothes. I want you inside me."

He starts shedding clothes as fast as he can and I help with everything I can reach. Then his rigid flesh is bobbing at me, so beautifully formed. When I take it in hand and start to lower my mouth to the plushy head, he gently pushes my shoulders back.

"No, Teresa. Not this time." He can barely speak and the words come out in a hoarse whisper. "I'm going to fuck you in your beautiful gown."

I'm whimpering now. I need him. He knows how much.

Somehow I'm against the dresser. He cups my chiffon-covered bottom and lifts it to wedge on the low piece. I push things out of the way without looking, a clatter of now insignificant items toppling and scraping, as I slouch back on my arms. He's red, breathing so hard that it moves my hair. He stares at me like a panther, responding to my wild call.

When I push my hips forward, he takes the invitation to cup a hand between my legs, pressing the mons with the heel of his palm and wiggling his fingers into my lips. The chiffon is too rough against the inside of my sex.

I pull the double hem of the gown to my waist. It flows out of bounds everywhere, voluminous and unstoppable until he catches it and tucks his hand underneath. Sheer white fabric cascades around his arm. I wonder if it feels as tickly and exciting to him as it does to me. He finds my delta and ruffles the short patch of hair I keep, then thumbs just above the cleft, putting pressure on the base of my clit but not touching it.

_I'm going to fuck Teresa in this beautiful negligee. She's whimpering for it and my hand is on her wonderful soft flesh. I keep pressing my thumb on the base of her clit to remind her what's coming. White chiffon is everywhere, like fluffy clouds lowering from an alpine summit. My warm little hut is under the clouds._

_Pulling me lightly by the shoulders, she tells me she loves me and makes me bend for her kiss. It quickly envelops me, racing down my spine to my root. Now I have both hands under her gown, letting it spill where it may. When I take hold to guide myself in, she pulls her legs wide apart to make it easier for me. I'm still pressing on the base of her tight little nub and I scrape it as I enter, shoving in and holding it tight against my shaft._

_She comes immediately and her body curls so hard it nearly unseats us both. I grab her hips and barely ride it out because she's squeezing me inside, her rhythmic muscles low, her cries high in my ear. Chiffon is all over my chest where her plump squashy tits rub from underneath, the tight nipples blazing a trail. Chiffon is running down my hips and thighs, a tickling whisper that drives how I move, dancing a new pattern that makes her start to meet me, still in orgasm._

"_More. More!"_

_I smile, a little bloom of pride. Teresa's words are demanding but her tone has a little begging, a little desperation and it makes me happy that she's calling for what I have to give. Her movement is restricted because of her position and I bend my knees to add power and depth to my thrusts. The effect is immediate and she comes again in seconds. This time she opens her eyes and catches the little bit of smugness in my satisfaction. She manages to wink at me and wets her lips while she quakes._

"My fanny, Patrick."

"It's a beautiful one."

"It's going numb from sitting like this. And the edge of this dresser is hurting it, cutting in."

He pulls out, a sticky sound and an emptiness that draws a little groan from both of us.

My muscles are stiff and it's not easy to take a step right away, so Patrick lifts me and sets me on the bed.

"Roll onto your stomach, hon."

He smiles sheepishly when I look at him about the endearment.

He breaks into a grin because my return smile is wicked and pleased. "You can have me doggie-style. Just don't get too carried away. You put rub burns on my knees last time."

"I don't want you doggie-style."

"Oh?"

"I want to kiss and fondle your little bum back to life."

"Mmmmm. Your hands on my ass, and kissing it, too? Sounds wonderful! Just as it should be." Grinning, I waggle my eyebrows at him before I flip onto my stomach.

He sits on the bed near my legs, and picks up a foot. "I bet these are a little stressed, too."

The way Patrick massages a foot should be illegal! He has me limp as noodles in no time. He does both feet, holding the last, rolling his thumb to massage into a spot that brings my core alive and sets my clitoris on fire. It's impossible to stop squirming and if he doesn't stop I'm going to be hunching air and howling.

"Oh! Oh! Patrick! That goes straight to my pu-!" Lifting a little, I rush my fingers to my clit and start rubbing.

"Feels good, does it?"

"I need you inside me. Right now."

He answers by doing the same to the other foot.

When I try to turn over, hissing and puffing, he pushes my hip back down and I wail, impatient and a bit put out. "Paaaatrick, now!" I eye his massive standing erection and toss my head pointedly in the direction of my nethers.

He drops the foot and slowly slides the hems of my nightgown to my waist. The tickle after whatever he did to my feet is maddening! My fanny wiggles like crazy, trying to shake off the intense stimulation that he wouldn't satisfy. Then he sets his warm hands on me and starts to squeeze and massage the cheeks, tucking his thumbs to press in the bottom creases where the dresser edge had cut into me.

Freeing my hand, I slowly pull one leg up, inviting him.

"Mmmmm. Thank you. Very soon . . ."

I push up my bottom, still wriggling, showing him everything.

He uses his fingers to pet all that I expose. It eases me and soon I relax under his touch with a sigh. Finally, he slips those nimble fingers into me.

"I need to put my thumb somewhere . . ."

"I'll gladly turn over."

"I was thinking of some place else."

I feel his thumb nudge between my cheeks. I nod and, picking up moisture from the buried fingers, he slides his thumb along the deep of my ass, swirling the meat of his thumb onto me. He seats it in the hollow of the relaxed bud, pressing in and out but not trying to enter, as he works his fingers inside my aching sex.

His touch is knowing and easy, quickly filling me low with a desire like hot plasma. I back myself onto his thrusting fingers and everything under his hand lights up before I come again, moaning his name. Pulling his fingers out, he pushes my leg further up, grabs my hips, then bites my ass and makes me squeak! Right before he impales me, thrusting deep with all that hot cock.

_She is three orgasms ahead of me, four now, so she can indulge in humor and whining. I smile because I want to give both of these luscious cheeks a good smacking spank, watch them jiggle and turn pink, a playful attitude adjustment for being so fussy. But we haven't discussed that sort of thing yet._

_She's so soaking and slack, I should be able to shove in to my balls. I bite her bottom, push her leg up more and slide deep in one hard thrust. I growl in her ear, "It's my turn now," and she freezes for a moment. The tone is new to her. Then she wiggles me deeper and I start pounding her under all that rippling white chiffon. I tuck my hands under her shoulders and grip them, pressing my cheek against a cushiony chiffon sleeve, while the layer that lies between us warms my chest and belly._

_There is no better heaven than ramming myself in and out of Teresa's swollen, hot channel. She wants it all, comes, and moans for more. I must be heaven for her, too. The thought takes me all the way to the end, lacing my blood with love that I express with my body._

_I tell her I'm going to come and she starts talking to me. It's my turn to freeze because this is a new tone for her, encouraging the beast in a raw gasping whisper. She's panting. I can tell she's about to come again, but she wants me with her.__  
_

"_Come for me. Ram it in there." I do as she asks, with pleasure. "That's it. Ooohhhh. More. I want all the hot juice you've got. All of it, Patrick. Shoot it in me, now!" __Her love__ surges into me carried by her rough words. I manage to kiss her ear and whisper what's in my soul, laying my head next to hers. __I'm shooting like a geyser into her clasping core and she's still filling my ear with raw encouragement._

_I don't know when or how she frees herself from the dead weight of my unconscious form. When I come to, I hear water running in the bathroom and manage to turn onto my back. That's where my energy fizzles so I enjoy lying there with a soft pillow under my head. While I'm resting, she cleans us up with a warm, wet cloth. It feels good. So gentle, attentive, comforting._

_She sees the way I look at her and quietly returns my gaze._

_"You love me," I say._

_"I do. With all my heart. And you love me."_

_"With all my heart."_

_She pulls the gown over her head and I'm treated to her relaxed breasts. They always tilt up when the nipples and surrounding flesh aren't hard. She sees my cock move and stiffen, and there go her nipples, tightening with the excitement of seeing me revive. I am the luckiest of men._

_"Need more? What do you say we go skin to skin? You stay on your back. I'll take care of everything."_

_Her eyes are gleaming when I nod and she reaches for me. I'm sure she's sated. But she knows I'm not and she won't ignore it._

_Stroking my cheek, she looks into my eyes. "I bet you gave me seven tonight. You can have another."_

_It's been a bonfire session of lovemaking and it's not over. _

_Before long I'm rock hard, buried inside her and the way she's moving on me, hips gliding forward and back, reminds me of a rider on a galloping horse. Only I'm the horse and my soaking pole is deep in the sweet hot as she gallops me home. Watching her lovely excited boobs jiggle and bounce as she rides makes me dizzy. My scalp even tingles. I think she's making my hair curl so tight, the coils are picking up signals from the Big Bang. But it's just my brain short-circuiting. I'm in satisfaction territory now. _

_I call her name and she tells me how much she loves me._

_She increases her speed, pinches my nipples and adds a hard grind at the bottom of every thrust. It makes me growl, grab her hips and thrust so hard it lifts her every time I push. "Bronco," I rasp out. I don't care if it makes any sense to her; I keep going. When I come, the spasms pull sounds from me like I've been gut-shot, and it's all ecstasy. _

Sexually, Patrick and I are still figuring each other out, as we are in many other ways. I think he has a good understanding of sex in a relationship, but he still has to learn what that means with me.

I have to learn everything about what sex means in a committed relationship. What it means to me, what it means with him. It's new. It was scary at first, but now that we're easy with each other, it just seems exciting.

There's something wild and primal in me. It recognizes and seeks the same in Patrick. It answers when he calls. It's not crazy or destructive. It's full of need and tempered by love. It feels powerful and Patrick loves it. I'm just beginning to find the depths of it with him. He's the only one who will ever see it. He can be trusted. It binds us to the root of one another. And its beauty is endless.

_As many years as we've known each other, as deep as the attachment of our friendship goes, I'm only discovering the woman that Teresa is and how to be a man to that woman. How to satisfy her. Show her how she can satisfy me. All the specifics. Sticking ourselves together with the living glue of a committed romantic relationship that grows and changes every day. That's a good life, to me. An important life._

_Sex is the undiscovered country for us. The deepest ocean chasm is nothing. Teresa showed me another bit of her animal tonight. It's kind and loving, raw and powerful._

_I'll always remember that I first felt its power, saw it rise, under gales of white chiffon. And then it spoke to me skin to skin. She gets me. She loves me and she wants my animal._

_I don't need to spank her anymore. But we'll still talk about it. Because maybe she wants me to. I know I wouldn't mind handing her a hairbrush and letting her pink me up._


End file.
